Thursday Nights
by shannanagin
Summary: Jim and Pam spend their Thursday nights together. Oneshot.


I own nothing.

A/N: Each break depicts a different Thursday.

**Thursday Nights**

It starts the night they read Michael's script. The night they share dinner on the roof.

At about nine o'clock it becomes apparent that Michael's not coming back from his lunch meeting and people start trickling out of the office looking tired and irritated.

Jim and Pam linger behind and watch in amusement as Dwight paces the office and mutters about terrorists and police reports and possible kidnappings.

"Maybe he got hit by a train."

"Or stepped on a mine."

"Or fell into a well."

Dwight stops and fixes them with a beady stare, "This isn't a laughing matter! Michael could be hurt. He might need me."

Pam ducks her head and tries not to laugh. She lifts her eyes a little, catches his gaze and makes a face that he mimics.

"This is ridiculous."

Jim looks down at his watch and shakes his head, "It's almost nine-thirty. He's not coming back."

"Maybe he and Jan are making out somewhere," she whispers with a little giggle.

But as soon as the words come out of her mouth and she sees the look of horror cross his face her eyes widen and she shudders, "Nevermind. Forget I ever said that."

"How do you just forget something like that Pam? Great." He throws up in hands in disgust, "Now I'm emotionally scarred for life."

She shrugs and clicks the pen in her hand, watches the way his fingers drum absentmindedly on the counter. "Well, it could be good for you. Women love scars."

Jim smiles and leans forward a little more, "This is true."

They stick around and tease Dwight a little longer and neither of them seems to want to leave when they finally gather their things and head for the door.

In the parking lot he says something about traveling and she pictures driving with the windows down and listening to their favorite songs and her feet on the dashboard. She holds out her hand and asks about the music he's listening to because she just needs to share something with him and she's not ready to let him leave.

They listen to three songs and the entire time she can feel his breath, warm on her forehead and she has to keep her hands fisted at her sides because lately she's been feeling itchy and restless when she's around him and she's not really sure what that means anymore.

"Do you think…?" They're standing by her car and he's looking over the top of her head and he seems puzzled by something because his eyes are darkening and he's pursing his lips and she's suddenly filled with the desire to see what he sees when he looks like that. To sink into him and search his thoughts because maybe there's something worth finding there.

"What?"

Jim shakes his head and looks down at her with a half smile, "What? Nothing… never mind."

His cell phone goes off then and she looks away and feels ashamed even though he doesn't answer it. Maybe _because_ he doesn't answer it.

He taps the top of her car when she starts the engine, bends down and tells her to drive safely and she just nods and drives away and watches his image in the review mirror because she's never not trusted herself so much before.

* * *

The next Thursday she tells Roy she has to work late again. He doesn't really even protest because on Thursdays he goes out with the guys anyway and in the darker places of her mind she can somehow convince herself that this is all okay. 

When she walks out of the break room everyone is gone except for Jim and he's leaning back in his chair and giving her that look like he's asking her what she wants. His tie is loosened and she doesn't really even know anymore.

"You know what I've been craving all week? Thai food. I haven't had Thai food in forever."

Jim drops his feet of his desk and snaps his fingers, "There's a place around the corner."

"Okay."

She definitely doesn't know what she wants but at the restaurant something funny happens in her stomach when he asks for a table for two, when the waitress looks at them like they're a couple, when their knees bump under the table and his face goes red. She unconsciously moves closer to him and he smiles widely.

And it's the first time they've really been alone, away from the cameras, away from the office and it's not nearly as strange as it should be. It's not nearly as different as it should be because she's still Pam and he's still Jim and no one's ever made her feel so comfortable in her own skin before.

They stay until the restaurant closes and when they walk out the door she can feel his hand on the small of her back.

And it doesn't feel wrong.

* * *

"I'm thinking about quitting my job and singing full time." 

"And who's going to pay you to do that?"

"All my adoring fans."

Pam drops three beer bottles into the trashcan and rolls her eyes, "You were _not_ that good."

"Hey, you told me I had a nice voice."

"No. I said you had a better voice than Michael. Really doesn't say a lot for you."

Jim gives her a look of indignation as he wipes the kitchen counter. "That hurts Pam."

She just smiles and continues moving around his living room, picking up empty beer bottles and half empty bowls of pretzels. The party ended an hour ago and she's stayed behind to help Jim clean up the mess, she's stayed behind because she just doesn't want to leave and she likes being in this place that is so entirely him.

There's a line of beer bottles above the fireplace and when she moves to grab them she catches sight of the pictures there. Jim with another man she doesn't know. Jim with a group of friends she doesn't know at a bar she doesn't recognize. Jim with -

All at once she has to stop and close her eyes and catch her breath because she feels lost and maybe she doesn't know him at all and maybe this whole thing is just something she's imagined during too many long hours at reception.

She turns around and he's leaning against the counter and there's something in his eyes that she doesn't recognize. Something that - maybe he's looking at her like she _does_ belong there, maybe he's looking at her like he's imagined her there a million times and it doesn't seem real to him either.

They watch each other for a moment until she turns away with a little laugh, "How about I give you five dollars and a lifetime supply of jellybeans to never leave Dunder-Mifflin in pursuit of a singing career?"

He nods, "Deal."

* * *

The ceiling is spinning, spinning, spinning, around, around, around. 

Everything moves slowly out of focus and her head begins to feel light and she finally has to put her foot down and drag it against the carpet so the chair stops moving.

The office swims in front of her and she's blinking rapidly and holding onto the desk because she's afraid she's going to fall over and it takes a moment before everything rights itself.

He's lying on the couch with his eyes closed and his feet hanging off the end and she watches him for a moment until he starts to smile and opens one eye to look back at her.

"What?"

With a shrug she looks up at the ceiling, kicks her foot along the ground to spin the chair around again.

"Nothing."

She spins faster and holds onto the armrest. Faster and faster until everything blurs and falls away.

* * *

It's snowing when she suggests climbing up to the roof and he laughs at her and points out that she's just getting over a cold but he follows her up there anyway. 

They can't sit in the folding chairs because they're too wet and cold so they just kind of stand there and stare at the skyline.

Snow falls all around them and suddenly she's shaking because it's colder than she thought it would be and she's crying then because there's something so perfect and miserable about that moment and it doesn't really make sense.

And only _he_ would understand because he lets her cry and doesn't question it and when she's done he wipes at her cheeks with his fingertips and brushes snow out of her hair with a smile on his face like he feels the same way.

As he touches her, as they stand there together on the roof she thinks that she could do this forever.

* * *

"No he didn't." 

"Oh, yeah. He did."

Pam giggles and leans back in the booth with her beer in her hand, "Well, at least Dwight's okay."

"Yeah."

She nudges him with her elbow, her eyebrows raised, "You were worried there for a moment."

"No I wasn't." He's shaking his head and taking a bite of his pizza but she continues to laugh.

"Aww. You really do love him, don't you?"

He's not answering so she takes a sip of her beer and finally lays her hand on his arm and leans in.

"It's sweet."

And she's maybe leaned in a little too close because when he turns to look at her she can practically taste his breath on her lips and there's a familiar twinge spreading low in her stomach, spreading up into her chest and down through her toes and she's

practically gasping for air when his hand comes up to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear.

"Sweet huh?"

Her head bobs almost imperceptivity and he closes his eyes when he finally tears his gaze away from her.

The moment passes and she's somehow found herself moving away from him and raising her beer back to her lips with a shaking hand.

"Dwight should be concussed more often. He was actually kind of fun today."

Jim laughs loudly, "I felt like I was taking care of a little kid or something."

"Dwight or Michael?"

"Maybe both."

* * *

At five o'clock he gets up, puts his coat on and slings his bag over his shoulder. 

She looks up from her computer in surprise, then glances down at the page-a-day calendar by her keyboard. It's Thursday.

"You heading out?"

He stops at her desk and nods but won't quite meet her eyes, "Yeah, it's been a long day. I'm probably just going to go home and crash."

"No. Yeah… Um, have a good night."

"You too Beesley."

She watches as he walks out the door, feels something slip away in that moment and she really can't stand feeling like she's disappointed him somehow.

The whole day's been strange but it doesn't really hit her until she opens the door into the dark and empty house. It's been months since she's been home on a Thursday night and it feels wrong, like she doesn't really belong there anymore and she has to take a deep breath because she thinks that maybe she doesn't really belong anywhere anymore.

It's only seven o'clock but she bypasses the kitchen table where she's strewn about all her notes for wedding arrangements and heads for the bedroom. She lies on the bed without changing and stares at the ceiling without thinking, without feeling.

"_There's always a million reasons not to do something."_

"_You've got to take a chance on something, sometime."_

She's just so tired of people telling her what to do, so tired of everything feeling so stagnant all the time, tired of living in this house with Roy and still feeling so alone…

Just tired.

* * *

They spend the entire day together and somehow she manages to forget that the past few months have been filled with awkwardness and tension and coming home to empty houses. 

He's smiling at her again like he used to and that darkness that's been there since – she doesn't even know when it started but it's gone suddenly and he's holding her hand as they glide and stumble across the ice.

At five o'clock everyone begins to leave and she smiles little goodbyes and the smiles get bigger as it gets later because he still hasn't left and suddenly they're the only two people in the room.

It's easy when they're alone to pretend like nothing's changed.

They're sitting on the floor, leaning against the reception desk with their legs stretched out in front of them, their shoulders touching.

Sometimes they talk and sometimes they don't and sometimes Pam just leans her head against his shoulder and breathes in his scent which is some kind of mix of fabric softener and printer toner and it smells like satisfaction.

* * *

She feels like a kid on the last day of school where everything is brighter and more relaxed and there's something like escape on the other side of today. 

They walk down to the little park in the neighborhood around the corner laughing and talking the entire time because an entire day without his voice has just been so empty, too empty.

The sun is almost completely gone from the horizon but the air remains warm in that muggy almost summer kind of way. The park is deserted and quiet so they just lay down in the grass and watch for the first stars.

"Hey, there's one."

She closes her eyes and thinks of something to wish for, something, anything… but her mind can't rest on any one thing so she opens her eyes again with a sigh.

"What?"

"I don't know what to wish for anymore."

He's silent for a moment and then, "Yeah."

There's a sudden little click and a hiss and they're being pelted with water as the sprinklers spark to life.

Pam shrieks and moves reflexively to cover herself, turning into Jim's body and ducking her face into his shirt. His hand comes up to cup the back of her head and he laughs, staying still on the ground, his face turned toward the sky.

He's so warm but she moves away and lies back down and lets the water fall over them.

It's soaking her clothes and causing little rivets of water to stream down her skin. She tries to keep her eyes open so she can see the way the individual droplets of water seem to fall from the sky and hang in the air suspended for a moment before hitting her face and her arms and her legs and dripping slowly to the grass.

He's watching her and she can feel it without looking but when she turns her head he's closing his eyes and she sees the droplets of water on his cheeks and imagines for a moment that they're tears so she finds his hand in the wet grass and their fingers slide against each other and intertwine and his eyes squeeze tighter so that she thinks maybe he_ is_ crying.

The sprinklers finally shut off and the last drop falls and they continue lying there together, holding hands and breathing evenly until she shivers because it's colder than it was ten minutes ago and her clothes are dripping and he's started running his thumb over her wrist and it's making it hard to breathe.

"I think I'm going to catch some form of Count Choculitis if I lay out here any longer."

Jim laughs and pulls her to her feet and his shirt is all wet and stuck to him and she wants to touch his chest but she's afraid that she won't stop so she settles for brushing a wet piece of hair out of his eyes and smiling and praying that he won't lean in any further than he already is but her eyes are fluttering shut anyway.

And his arms are moving around her and he's pulling her closer against him, resting his chin on her head and running his fingers through her wet curls, unclipping her barrette so that her hair falls all around her shoulders. She's shivering again but she's not even that cold because he's just so warm against her. So warm and secure.

Her nose is pressed into his chest as she breathes him in and just lets him hold her. She thinks about maybe unbuttoning his shirt and running her hands up his chest, into his hair, cupping the back of his head and pulling him down to meet her lips. And she wonders what he would taste like because right now he smells a little bit like grass and rain.

"You're my best friend. You know that right?"

He doesn't answer her, doesn't say anything at all, just tightens his arms around her and kisses the top of her head and sighs somewhere so deep in his chest that she can feel it echoing through her own body.

* * *

"I'm taking that transfer to Stamford." 

She nods and leans back on his desk again, lets her hands fall to her sides.

The memory of his kiss is still on her lips but he's saying goodbye now and she knew all along that he eventually would.

"I can't…" He stops then and laughs dryly, running his fingers through his hair.

"What?"

"I just… I just really needed you to know. Before."

"I know."

He nods and shoves his hands in his pockets and turns for the door.

"Jim?"

"Yeah?"

"What if… I mean, will you…?" She shakes her head wordlessly.

He gives her a small half smile, "Yeah. Yeah, I will. I always will."

It's not until he's pulling his car out of the parking lot a few minutes later that Pam lays her head down on his desk and cries.

* * *

It's five-thirty and she's the only one left in the office. 

She slips off her shoes and sits down in his chair, runs her hands over the wood of his desk. The desk that used to be his. The chair that used to be his.

Everything's different now.

She thinks that maybe she could walk down to the park and lie in the grass and watch the stars but right now she just needs to feel close to him.

Because now, now that he's gone, she sees what she wants for the first time. For the first time in a long time she can see beyond the summer, beyond June 8th, beyond Dunder-Mifflin.

It feels like escape.

She starts kicking her foot along the carpet and holds on to the armrests as the chair begins to spin around. Faster and faster and faster until she can't see anything anymore. Until it all blurs and falls away.

And this is when it starts.


End file.
